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Mark squeezed her shoulders gently. "Elena, I fell in love with you. All of you. If the rest of the world sees what I see—a beautiful, strong woman who I'm lucky enough to call my wife—then that's a good thing. And if they see something else, that's their problem. I’m right here with you."

"Morning," she replied, her voice soft but steady. "I was thinking about what we talked about last night. About taking that next step together." Mark sat up, leaning against the headboard. "The dress?" wife shemale me

Mark rubbed his eyes and saw Elena sitting at the vanity, brushing her long dark hair. He smiled, feeling a familiar warmth. "Morning," he rasped. Mark squeezed her shoulders gently

Their journey had started almost a year ago with a late-night conversation where Elena finally shared the part of herself she had kept hidden for so long. She had told Mark about her identity as a trans woman—or, as she sometimes referred to herself with Mark in their more intimate, private shorthand, his "shemale" wife. It was a term they had reclaimed together, one that felt like a secret bond between them, bridging the gap between her past and their present. If the rest of the world sees what

As they walked back to the car, Mark pulled her close. "You were the most beautiful woman in that room, you know."